


Lights Out

by xoTheMonsterYouMade



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Cutesy, Fluff, Happy Ending, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-19 04:17:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7344559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xoTheMonsterYouMade/pseuds/xoTheMonsterYouMade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Now everyone, keep calm. It's just a storm. The lights will probably be back up in a few minutes."</p>
<p>~*~*~</p>
<p>In which polar opposites Mikey Way and Pete Wentz are stuck in class during a severe storm. They've never talked before this, never even batted an eyelash at each other.<br/>But today, as the lights go out, and the chaos outside rages on, that may just change. </p>
<p>~*~*~</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lights Out

It all begins with heavy rain pounding against the school, echoing throughout the building like millions of falling bullets, flying like shooting stars. The wind howls, ripping at the trees, and making those raining bullets that much more aggressive.

Pete Wentz is used to these kinds of storms. He's moved several times, but the placed he stayed at the longest was Seattle. It seemed to rain everyday there, constantly storming. It fit the gloomy atmosphere, or maybe the atmosphere adjusted itself to the weather, who knows? 

He did take a part of Seattle with him, and that was the dreary aesthetic. He also loves the 90s alternative and grunge era. The music is amazing, completely raw and unhinged. The amount of expression and emotion screamed, yelled, and sang into every tune just blows Pete's mind. His favorite band is Nirvana, and he's the only one he knows of that genuinely loves them and knows more songs than just 'Smells Like Teen Spirit'. 

At the moment, he sits in his Digital Media class, hearing the teacher drone on and on about things he could honestly care less about. This is high school, and Pete is a junior, so he should be able to hand pick all of his classes out, correct? But sadly, this tiny ass high school in New Jersey doesn't offer much. He didn't have much to be excited about while signing up for classes, nothing truly sparked his interest. He only took things that he heard were easy. His only goal while signing up was to avoid study hall, because that place is hell. Although it's meant for homework and studying, most students use the hour for sleeping. Pete can't focus on homework for shit, and he'd probably end up following suit and trying to sleep, if only he actually could.  
He suffers from severe insomnia. It's not even because he's afraid of things or anxious about things; rather it's because his brain just likes to run and run on some kind of infinite race. There's no finish line, it's just speeding along, thoughts constantly competing for Pete's attention. Random ones such as 'why is there gum on my shoe, where the actual fuck did that shit come from', and the more serious ones such as 'why am i here, why do i still bother?'.  
Meds don't help too much, they only make Pete feel groggy. He's found that just not sleeping at all gives him more energy than hopelessly trying for hours at a time. 

His eyes are holding heavy dark bags, heavy eyeliner smeared across the lids. His breathing is deep and slow, his back naturally bent over, his eyes staring blankly at the computer program. The teacher has finally stopped talking, but since Pete zoned out, he has no idea what the actual hell they're supposed to do. 

His eyes sting while looking at the bright screen, causing a mind head ache. He can't think at the moment, so he decides to just open up Microsoft Paint and draw random things.

Suddenly, a large crash is heard outside, and with the flash of lightening, the lights go out. The computer monitors shut off, and the room is quiet. Then, after a moment or two, unnecessary screams pierce through the calm silence. 

"Now everyone, keep calm,"

Mr. Horan, also known as Niall to his students, says,

"It's just a storm. The lights will probably be back up in a few minutes."

Across the room, people take out their phones. They sit under the long tables, eyes gleaming from the bright light. But one person doesn't do that, they're the odd one out. Pete sees them sitting in the corner, knees pulled up to their head, rocking back and forth. 

Pete tries his best not to assume gender, but from what he knows, the teacher calls the kid Mikey. Mikey is a sophomore, a year younger than Pete. They're small, with long chestnut hair and glasses with one of the lenses cracked. They always wear cool band shirts. Sometimes they wear them with skirts, sometimes with ripped jeans. Today Mikey is wearing jeans.

It sounds like they're whimpering, and it only gets worse when the monotone voice of their principal, Mr. McCracken, booms from the speaker,

"This is not a drill. I've recently heard from the National Weather Service that there's a tornado warning affective here in the area until a little bit after the school day. It's an F3, so if it does come our way, we may see some pretty heavy damage. Please go to your designated severe weather safe areas. Keep safe, and thank you for your cooperation."

As if on cue, another crash echoes from outside. Large golf ball sized hail bounces off the ceiling, making sudden and sharp noises. 

It takes Mr. Horan a moment to breathe and say,

"Okay kids. Everyone by the wall farthest from the window. Please stay calm, and try to be quiet. Thanks."

The kids are whispering to each other in panicked shaky voices, scared, but not too horribly shaken. Then there's Mikey. 

They're too petrified to even move, and as the others make their way towards the wall, Pete crawls over to where Mikey sits in their corner.

"Mikey?"

Mikey jumps in shock, and looks at Pete almost fearfully.

"I'm Pete, if you didn't already know. Listen dude, we have to go over by the wall with the other kids. It's the safest spot."

Mikey doesn't say a word, they just shake their head 'no' and continue cowering. They're shaking so bad that it's obviously visible, their hands gripping each other so hard that the knuckles are a bleak bright white.

"Mikey--"

"Shut up,"

They abruptly yell,

"You're only making the noise worse!"

The students glare in the two's general direction, not knowing where exactly the noise came from since its so dark. Mr. Horan generally shushes everyone, and the classroom welcomes the quiet back with open arms. Well, not exactly quiet, since the storm outside is extremely loud. Louder than an incoming train, louder than a rollercoaster speeding right above your head, louder than a concert inside a tight venue. 

It's so loud, that it feels like the noise is personally crushing Mikey, grinding them into nothing more than dust.  
It's already difficult enough when school is normal. The students, constantly chattering, books dropping, lockers slamming. Bells blaring, screaming messages of extreme urgency. When the bells ring, the students begin running to open doors and teachers with scowls. Mikey doesn't run, they just casually stroll. Unlike the others, when they come in after the bell, the teachers don't criticize and lecture them. They let them be. 

But it's all so overwhelming, every little bump and strike scares the shit out of Mikey. Their house is loud too, sometimes with tension so thick you could cut it with a knife, sometimes with boistrous joy that reminds Mikey of pretty fireworks. 

Everything is always loud, and sometimes, Mikey wishes for silence. But even in times like these, where everyone is quiet, the outside world is throwing a grand scale temper tantrum, throwing tree branches and sobbing like a toddler. Nature's fist swings at the ground, making holes. Animals are whipped around, splattered against hard surfaces. Birds are thrown off course, their frantic squawks echoing in the air as they find themselves hurling down towards the ground below at fast speeds. Its all so scary, and Mikey despises it so much. They hate storms as much as they find them intriguing. Intriguing, because it's the only time where everyone else understands how abosolutely horrifying noises are; they, for once in their life, don't feel alone.

This pretty boy in front of Mikey keeps talking, keeps trying to get them to move. But his words don't persuade; all they do is add to the rest of the chaos going on in Mikey's head. Which is why Mikey yelled, and now they feel even worse, because they notice how crumpled the boy's expression is. It all stems from Mikey's harsh words. Now, to make it even worse, the whole class is judging them.

Mikey begins to cry, not only from the terrible catharsis of noise crashing on top of them, but also because they expect the boy to leave or say something mean back. The truth is, Mikey doesn't want the boy to leave. This is the first time in awhile that someone addressed them like they were normal. Words are always laced with pity towards them, laced with obligation and sadness, and they don't quite understand why. But what they do know is that it's very irritating, so irritating that usually after the words are said, Mikey explodes on them. Which only leads to more of those despicable phrases.

"Hey,"

Pete whispers to them,

"It's okay. Storms aren't fun, are they?"

Mikey nods, wiping the tear drops away from their cheek.

Pete, to be brutally honest, is dumbfounded as to what to say after that. Something about Mikey seems off, and they can't quite put their finger on it. He wants to talk some more, but he doesn't want Mikey to get mad and snap at him again.  
They mentioned something about a dislike of noise. Maybe they're going through sensory overload? Pete knows that feeling, for he for the longest time suffered from severe anxiety issues. It took him years to finally get a decent grip on it, to be able to not think horrible self depreciating thoughts all the time, to not panic in every situation slightly involving people.   

"It's like... There's so much stuff going on at once, and you don't know how to take it in all at once. You just want it all to stop...,"

Pete continues, still whispering. 

The lightening strikes down again, the brilliant light shining in through a single window. In the moment, Pete can see Mikey's face, their eyes reminding him of a doe in the headlights. Their lips are slightly agape, wanting to say something, yet not. 

Pete scoots closer to Mikey. The two are now sitting side by side, sharing the same perspective of the classroom, and the students. You can only see their backs, and their small voices, once of various pitches, seem like hisses. Everything seems so far away at this angle, and the corner and this odd yet sweet person seem like Pete's entire world. 

Pete accepts the silence, and says,

"I know what it's like to want everything to be at a standstill. Especially when there's one moment where the world seems absolutely perfect, and your mindset is totally positive, and you have hope for the world. You want to keep being in that frame of mind, but you can't. It always fucking ends eventually."

Mikey finally decides to respond, taking a deep breath before speaking. Every word is softly quivered, burning their throat,

"I am positive, and happy overall. But... I just really don't like loud things."

"Are you sure?"

Pete asks, puzzled.

"Yeah, I'm sure. Of course I get sad sometimes, it seems like everyone does. But I'm not always like that. You are, though."

"What the fuck does that mean?"

Pete snaps defensively. He hates when people assume shit, just because someone 'looks' sad. Like, Pete could appear sad and actually be perfectly content, or even joyous. His real emotions are more obvious when he's talking to his friends. But since there's no friends in this class, and the subject isn't even interesting, he just sits around, exhausted.

Mikey is taken aback from Pete's aggresive response,

"Nevermind, it's just an observation. You just always look... really down. Tired. Like your life is a toy, and some other kid else took it away, and you're just nothing. Nothing at all. Like the vast dark empty space between the stars."

Pete finds himself in love with the aspect of being compared to space. Even if it's just the background, the filler in between the glittery stars. His cheeks are flushing a sweet strawberry red, and he's thankful that the lights are out,

"So if I'm space's dark infinte skies, what are you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like... what thing in space personifies you the most, and why?"

Mikey thinks for a moment, and with a shock, they realize that they've stopped shivering. They don't know what it is about this guy, but something just makes them feel really at ease.

"I would say falling stars. People wish on me, hoping for me to bring good things to their lives. But I don't, I'm nothing but another average flying object. I just go where life takes me, not ever doing anything truly spectacular, letting people down constantly."

"Oh? Why's that? Why do you let people down?"

Mikey shrugs,

"I'm not even sure why. All I know is that something is wrong with me. I don't know what though. I'm not sick, yet my mom always forces me to take pills. I don't like taking them, they make me feel funny. When I try swallowing, it feels like they're scratching the insides of my throat. It hurts. When I'm able to get away with it, I don't take them. Even though the noise is louder without them, I feel more like myself. I don't know, is that bad?"

"No Mikey, that's not bad at all. Pills are shit. I tried taking them for awhile for my mental issues, and all they did was numb me. Eventually I told my parents how negatively they affected me, and they let me stop taking them. Maybe if you told your mom what they do to you, she'll let you stop too."

Mikey shakes their head in dismay, curling up into a ball again,

"Can't do that, I've already tried. She doesn't understand. Dad doesn't understand either. They don't understand me when I speak at all, it's like I'm speaking another language or something. They just stare at me, and insult me, and I think it's better if I just don't talk at all."

Tornado sirens shriek outside, and Mikey whines,

"Oh no, oh no, oh no no no!! Make them stop, make them stop!!"

Something sparks inside of Pete. He notices the headphones wrapped around his neck from listening to music earlier. He rips them off, and says to Mikey,

"Try these. See if they help."

Mikey glances down at the headphones, and automatically puts them on. The reaction is instant; as the sirens keep shrieking to the point of even annoying Pete, Mikey seems a little more at peace. Sure they're still jittery, but not as bad. 

Another lightening flash, and Pete can see Mikey's smile. Barely there, just a small wisp, equivalent of the tiniest paint brush stroke. 

The sirens stop, and with that, Mikey takes the headphones off,

"Thank you... What's your name again?"

"Pete. Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz the 3rd."

"That's a nice name. You already seem to know my nickname. But my full name is Michael James Way. The... First?"

Pete giggles,

"Not everyone has those titles after their name. Yours is probably just Michael James Way."

"But it sounds cooler though!"

Mikey pouts, and Pete is starting to find the dude a bit adorable.

"Alright, Michael James Way The First. That sounds like a name belonging to royalty, if you ask me."

"I could say the same thing for you. I mean, the word 'king' is literally in your name."

"Hmm.... You know what would be cool? Ruling a kingdom. We could both be in charge. It'll be a place for the falling stars and misfits of the world to come together and live in peace."

Mikey grins,

"So basically like the island of misfit toys in that one Rudolph movie?"

"Yes, exactly."

"I would really enjoy that."

Mikey is starting to feel a foreign sensation in their stomach. Not like they were going to puke, not any horrible aches or cramps or pains, but like a fluttery, light feeling. It spreads to the rest of their body, and it's euphoria at it's purest and most innocent. 

Maybe it's the fact that they have finally found someone who understands how they speak, and what they mean, for the first time in the history of ever. There's no derogatory things being spit out, no dirty loks, no pity, no anything. It's absolutely average, which makes it actually that more miraculous and amazing.

A large gray mass can be seen in the distance if you look out the window. The sky looks like the embodiment of the color of decay, blacks and vomit like greens blending together with sprinkles of a blood red. They're lucky nothing has smashed through their window yet, for objects are being chucked everywhere. 

"Mikey? Are you cold, or are you just scared?"

"Both,"

They state, eyeing the window with uncertainty and fright.

Before Mikey knows it, Pete's arm is wrapped around them, and they find themself snuggling into Pete's chest.

Mikey can hear Pete's heartbeat, slow and calm. His breathing is just the same, and it seems to soothe Mikey a little bit.

"Does this help?"

Mikey hums in response, and Pete grins,

"Good."

The two just sit there for a moment, and Mikey finds themself blurting out something quite embarassing,

"You're really pretty. Like, you're as pretty as the constellations, all of the glittering patterns stictched on the sky. You're as pretty as the moon and the sun, and all of the eclipses.---"

And Mikey stops themself when they see the rough scars on their new friend's arm, lining up. Some make words, rude words, horrible words that burn themselves into Mikey's brain. Some are long and some are short. Some are deep, some are light.

Mikey traces their finger on the closest one,

"-- These scars, they remind me of my brother's. When I asked him about them, he told me that they were battle scars, like a warrior's or something like that. It makes sense though. We all have things to fight for, we all get scars, and some of us have more than others. Maybe because we've fought for more things, or maybe because we're more sensitive. Doesn't matter which though, all that matters is that we make it through. And you obviously have, and you're so brave, damn it Pete, I can't even imagine what that stuff is like..."

Pete's eyes fill with sparkling tears of happiness,

"Thanks Mikey. That... that means a lot."

"No need to thank me. I'm just stating an observation."

Pete can't help but chuckle at that casual conclusion to probably the best compliment Pete has ever recieved,

"It's always just observations for you, isn't it?"

"Yeah, I guess."

As the two once again glance out the window, they notice that the big dark blob is now out of sight. The hail and rain are slowing down, now plopping in an almost steady rhythm. The lights are still out though. The clock is frozen at the exact moment the power fizzed out of existence, exactly 3:17 pm. Thirteen minutes before the bells would've sounded, and the students would've been let out of school for the day. 

Pete checks his watch, and sees that it's now 4:30 pm.

The speakers crackle with Mr. McCracken's voice,

"The tornado has passed, and with that, students can be released from their safe zones. All students must be picked up here at the building, since buses are not operating today. Thank you."

The students cheer, and speed off to get their things by their desks.

But Pete and Mikey stay a little longer, content with their own little piece of the world, the sound slowly filtering out the door with the bubbly kids' exit. 

It's all so serene, and with the lights out, the clock stuck, reality seems to freeze.

And in this particular space, it seems as if time goes to waste.

x x x x x

It's one year later, and Mikey and Pete are hanging out in Mikey's room.  
The two have become really close during the last year or so. Digital Media became their hangout, they always would partner up with one another on group projects, and they made each other's days a bit brighter and better.

Mikey and Pete have found out quite a lot about one another.

Pete has found out that Mikey's favorite colors are the shades of the sunset. Their favorite TV show is Adventure Time, and their favorite food is chococlate chip cookies. They like things tidy and neat, every CD and book in alphabetical order, bed made, clothes folded neatly in drawers. Their room always smells like fresh flowers, since Mikey loves air freshener. Their favorite music artists include Melanie Martinez, The 1975, Queen, Anthrax, and Led Zeppelin. They're Catholic, which Pete doesn't mind one bit, since Mikey never shoves their beliefs up his ass.  
Oh, and Mikey has autism. 

Mikey has found out that Pete's favorite color is the vibrant purples of lilacs. His favorite show is American Horror Story, and his favorite food is lasagna. Pete draws all over his arms, engulfing them with lyrics, poems, and general doodles. Not even just when he's bored in class, but also on the weekends, and in the summer. Every single damn day, and Mikey believes that Pete himself is just a work of art.  
Pete likes makeup, he not only wears eyeliner, but occasionally blush and lipstick as well. His room is messy to the point in which you can barely walk through it without breaking something or stepping on clothes. His favorite music artists include Nirvana, Alice In Chains, Soundgarden, Slayer, and Ghost B.C. Petes an atheist, which although Mikey is scared for how he'll turn out in the afterlife, they respect his beliefs and don't say much about it.  
Oh, and Pete has insomnia and bi-polar depression.

"Do you remember the day we met?"

Pete asks. He's currently standing by the record player, swapping out Mikey's 'Physical Graffiti' vinyl out for the 'Crybaby' one.

"How could I not? That day was terrifying."

"What was the scariest part about it? The noise? The storm? The dark? A random weird ass kid trying to talk to you?"

Mikey laughs,

"Definitely the noise. But the dark didn't scare me at all, I have no clue as to why that's on your list."

"So I scared you more than the power outage did?"

"Yup."

The song tinkles out of the record player's speakers, and Pete teases,

"You were a bit of a crybaby, to be quite honest."

"Oh shut up."

Mikey mutters, crossing their arms. 

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding. You were very brave. Now, the true question is, are you brave enough for this?"

Pete turns the lights off, and Mikey says irritably,

"I told you Pete, I'm not afraid of the dark."

Mikey can't see for shit though, and they have no idea where Pete could be. They swear that if Pete tries to pull some kind of jump scare shit on them, they'll kick his puny ass in. Even though Pete may be older, and taller, Mikey knows that their years in marching band would definitely make them at least ten times stronger than him. 

But there's no jump scare, and Mikey feels the bed shift as Pete sits down by them.

"There's something... Something I need to tell you Mikey. And the truth is, I really don't want to see your face when I say it. I'm really freaked out as to how you might react and... That's why the lights are now turned off."

"Oh?"

"It's like... Fuck... I like you. I... I really, really like you. I want to take you out to places, and hold your hand, and be there for you all the time. I want to compliment you constantly, and just... ah fuck, do you get what I'm saying?"

"Don't you already do that?"

Pete doubles over laughing,

"Okay, maybe I made it a bit obvious, and maybe you're a bit naive, but that's okay, it's adorable. You're adorable Mikey. You're the cutest sweetest little dude I've ever met and... I just... Do you want to be my significant other?"

"What's a significant other?"

"It's like... The gender neutral way of saying boyfriend or girlfriend."

"Oh..."

Mikey smiles, twiddling with their thumbs,

"Okay."

"Okay? So you will go out with me? And we can be all cliche and romantic and shit?"

"Yes, yes we can."

"Oh my god,"

Pete squeals,

"Yaaaaayyyyy!!!!"

He tackles Mikey with a tight hug. The two begin giggling, giggling till they begin to cry. 

"I can't believe..."

Mikey starts,

"I can't believe you actually like me that much! I've always been so annoying and clingy and--"

"That's one of the many things I love about you. All of your flaws, all of your perfections, everything. You're amazing Mikey. You're not a falling star, you're just a standing still star, the sun. Fucking pure sunshine."

The two lay side by side in the dark, and they grin, so large and genuine that their cheeks hurt. But they don't care, because in this moment, all they're focused on is how beautifully special the other one is.

"Can I... Can I kiss you, Michael James Way The First?"

Mikey's breath hitches. They've never had a kiss, besides Hershey's chocolate ones. Those are good, but obviously, real kisses are so much different. They've seen people kiss on TV and around them. It looks so weird, yet apparently it feels like heaven. 

"S-s-sure,"

Mikey mumbles nervously.

"We don't have to if you don't want to. Only if you're comfortable with it."

Mikey bites their lip, and then whispers,

"You know what Pete? Yolo. Fucking yolo. Kiss me, you damn pretty boy you."

And the two seal their newfound bliss with a sweet tender kiss, with Melanie Martinez twinkling in the background, and with the lights out.


End file.
